Three months had passed since that night in the cursed forest—the night of screams, of blood, of the grotesque truth Ran could never forget.
Now he was in the Valmonth Estate, a powerful territory neighboring Bloodrune lands. It was cleaner, quieter, and far less cruel on the surface. Ran rented a small, dusty room in a corner of an old inn. The owner didn't ask questions, and Ran didn't answer any.
He had become a mercenary in that time. Not part of any group, not tied to any name. Just a lone sword, accepting missions that paid enough to survive. Beast exterminations, bandit ambushes, delivery missions through dangerous woods—he took them all and completed each without fail.
Word spread, and people started fearing him.
No one got close to him. They couldn't. There was something off about the boy with ragged black hair, dead eyes, and a strange aura like creeping frost and suffocating darkness. And then, of course, there was the sword—a blood-red blade with pulsing veins of black light, humming as if it lived.
Right now, he sat cross-legged in his room, shirtless, inspecting his chest.
The skin was pale and smooth, healed completely—but beneath it, right where his heart should be, was something alien. It pulsed. A grotesque, black-red mass that beat like a heart, but felt like a parasite. He could feel it throb every time he channeled dark energy, and the thought made him sick.
"This thing..."
He muttered to himself.
"...is going to be my cage."
That demon Orphalos hadn't lied. The heart functioned well, healed his body faster than normal, and gave him access to the dark energy. But in the end, it was a tether. When he died, the demon would feast on his soul. Ran could already feel that truth echoing in his bones.
He leaned back on the creaky wooden bed and stared at the ceiling. He was short on money again. Not enough to keep paying for the inn and food, not enough for gear. He needed something stable.
His fingers brushed the crimson blade leaning against the wall. It pulsed at his touch, always responsive. Always alive.
Fafnir Academy.
The thought struck him like instinct. It was the most prestigious academy in the empire, founded by the five major powers—Valmonths, Bloodrunes, Borgouis, Von Kaisers, and Skyfords. It offered full residence and resources to students with talent. Ran didn't care for nobility or prestige. He wanted knowledge—swordsmanship, battle experience, and shelter. Most of all, he wanted a plan, a way to one day rip the demon apart and reclaim his soul.
The admissions would begin in two weeks. Scholarship candidates would be tested, evaluated, and only the most promising would be taken in.
He knew what he had to do.
Ran whispered to himself.
"I'll join... as a commoner."
He couldn't reveal his surname. The Bloodrunes would recognize him instantly. And being a bastard child was bad enough—being a disgraced, supposedly dead bastard? He would be a walking scandal. No, he'd join as just "Ran."
He already anticipated the discrimination. Nobles in the academy would be full of prideful scum. But he didn't care. If they challenged him, he'd crush them.
Suddenly—
BOOM!
A violent shockwave rattled the windows. Screams followed—sharp, terrified cries rising from the streets.
Ran shot to the window, eyes narrowing. Smoke. Fire. Blood.
A hulking figure loomed in the distance. Its skin was armored, rough and charcoal-black, eyes glowing yellow like lanterns. A C-rank monster. Tall as a two-story house. Fangs like swords, claws that tore through stone.
Ran's breath hitched. A strange twitch ran through his arm. Excitement?
He never felt this before in death battle.
The sword beside him began to glow faintly—responding to his sudden thrill.
The monster roared, smashing buildings like toys. People ran in all directions—children crying, women screaming, guards shouting orders in desperation. A squad of mercenaries rushed in to intercept, blades flashing.
But it was useless.
Blood splattered as one mercenary was torn in half mid-swing. Another was crushed by a backhanded blow. A guard with a spear screamed as the beast bit into his shoulder and tore his body apart.
Ran clenched his fist, his pulse syncing with the heartbeat of that cursed heart inside him.
Screams echoed again.
He didn't think.
He jumped out of the window.
Wind rushed past him as he fell, his coat flaring behind him. He landed with a light thud on a nearby rooftop, eyes locked on the monster below. His crimson sword gleamed with eerie light. The dark energy surged quietly within him like a storm waiting to break.
But before he could leap into battle—
She appeared.
A girl. No, a young woman.
She leapt onto the scene with grace, sword drawn. White hair cascaded behind her, long and flowing like silk. Her frame was tall and well-formed—curves that would turn heads, an ample chest, and toned legs covered in fine leather armor. Her presence demanded attention, but it wasn't just beauty. Her aura felt noble, powerful, and controlled.
Ran's eyes widened slightly.
Who the hell is she?
She didn't hesitate. Her blade glowed bright blue as she clashed with the monster. Sparks flew. She danced like wind, striking its joints, eyes, and throat in swift motions. The beast howled, swinging in rage, but she always slipped away just in time.
People stopped fleeing and started watching in awe.
Ran stayed still, watching too. Not because he was mesmerized by her looks—though, he couldn't lie, she was stunning—but because of her skill. Her form, her control, her timing… she was trained. Not just a noble with fancy clothes. She had real experience.
Maybe a student of Fafnir?
Ran didn't wait any longer.
He jumped down, landing with a loud thud beside her just as the monster tried to crush her with its claw.
CLANG!
Ran's crimson sword slashed upward, cutting into the monster's palm and pushing it back. The impact caused a shockwave of dark energy that blew dust in every direction.
The girl turned to him, surprised.
He didn't say a word.
The monster roared again. Ran's body tensed, his mind already calculating its next move. His cursed heart pumped wildly, feeding him just enough dark energy to move faster, hit harder.
He glanced at the girl.
"Focus."
He muttered.
She smirked.
"I had it handled."
But she didn't push him away.
Together, they dashed toward the monster again.
For the first time in three months, Ran fought alongside someone. Not a comrade. Not a friend. Just another sword... beside his own. And though his body still carried the weight of that cursed contract, his resolve was sharper than ever.
The academy could wait.
For now, the monster had to die.
A/N: This is how she looks.